


A Life Like This

by rory_the_dragon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Guardian!Peter, Kid!Felix, M/M, Parenthood, Peter POV, Teacher!Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_the_dragon/pseuds/rory_the_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is Felix’s first day of kindergarten, and Peter has never been more terrified.</p><p>(Or: In which Felix starts school, Peter meets his teacher, and that's pretty much it for him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Life Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Let us all take a moment and blame Brittany because that is what I am doing.
> 
> Felix is the biological son of Ruby and an unknown father. Peter is his guardian. Work with me here people, all will be explained through the cunning use of backstory.
> 
> Warnings for tooth-rotting sweetness, sickening cliches of romantic declarations, and Felix's everything.

 

It’s Felix’s first day of school and they’re running late.

Peter moves as fast as he can, pushing toast into Felix’s hands and throwing a coat around his shoulders, buttoning him up, and shoves a hat down around his ears.

"Don’t look at me like that, it’s cold out," Peter says in response to the quiet look Felix gives him, grabbing his car keys and pulling his shoes on, only bothering to stop and put his own coat on before chivying Felix out the door because he knows Felix’ll say something about it.

Felix holds up the toast for him to take a bite out of as they pull out of the driveway, before he starts munching away himself, perfectly content even when Peter realises he forgot to butter it.

Today is Felix’s first day of kindergarten, and Peter has never been more terrified.

"You’re going to be fine," He says, and Felix looks at him seriously over his toast. "School’s fun."

Which is rich coming from a guy who barely made it through compulsory education, but Peter figures the lies have to start somewhere.

Felix nods, quiet as ever, and watches the street pass by, little legs kicking slightly.

Oh god what is Peter thinking? Felix isn’t ready to go to school. Felix is special, Felix needs to stay where Peter can keep an eye on him, Felix is only five years olds, dammit, how is Peter supposed to look after him when he can’t see him for a five hour block each day?

Peter is trying very hard not to hyperventilate.

"Anything goes wrong, _anything_ , and I want you to get the office to call me, okay? I will come and pick you up immediately,” He says as they cruise the parking lot, looking for a space.

Holy shit, what’s he doing? He can’t say things like that. What if he scares him. “Not that anything will go wrong, I mean. Just, in case. Okay?”

Felix nods again.

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

Felix frowns. “Not all the way,” He says, unbuckling his belt and grabbing his small backpack from the floor. He’d picked it out himself, liking the colourful bird patterns, and filled it with pencils and notebooks. Peter had seen the excited flush on his cheeks and smiled.

Maybe he’ll be alright.

"Okay, kid. Let’s do this." Peter would think that Felix takes his hand out of his weirdly sensitive perception of everything Peter’s thinking, trying to comfort him, if Felix wasn’t gripping onto him hard enough to bruise.

The playground’s full of screaming kids and Peter sees something in Felix’s face shutter slightly at the noise. His stomach drops. Felix is a quiet kid, and with only him and Peter in the house, he’s not used to noise. Peter drops down to be at Felix’s eye level, coldness of the yard seeping into his jeans.

"You okay, kid?" He asks, brushing a hand through Felix’s hair. There’s a brightness in Felix’s eyes that isn’t excitement, but he visibly pulls himself together under Peter’s touch and nods. "You wanna go play?" Felix shakes his head. "Okay, kid. We’ll wait."

He runs his hand up and down Felix’s back, the way he used to when Felix was still in baby-grows and falling asleep against him, and watches as the colour starts coming back to Felix’s face, acclimatising. The bell rings, loud, but Felix doesn’t start.

"Want me to come in with you?" Another shake of the head. Peter smiles. "Alright, kid. You be good, you hear me? I want you to wait at least a week before I hear any stories about you starting a riot over naptime, okay?"

Felix smiles. It’s small, but it’s there.

"Come here," Felix pushes his face into Peter’s chest, little arms around his neck, and Peter loves this kid so much it hurts to breathe sometimes. "I’ll be back at two."

Peter’ll be back at one and waiting, but Felix doesn’t need to know that.

Felix quickly joins the crowd of kids filing inside and with one last look back at Peter, he’s gone.

“ _Fuck, Ruby_ ,” Peter breathes, rubbing a hand over his face. “You didn’t warn me about this one.”

He goes home. For the first time in his life Peter wishes he had a typical nine-to-five job, something with deadlines and desks to keep him occupied. It’s agony sitting in the house alone, without the constant presence of Felix in every corner, the quiet happy humming sounds he makes when he reads, the scratch of his pencils as he colours while Peter paints.

He has commissions to be working on, but they all stare blankly back at him as he oscillates between calling the school and asking for an update, and actually driving back to see for himself.

He’s back in the parking lot at one and is gratified to see he isn’t the only one.

Felix finds him immediately, and he’s _beaming_. Wait, is that…? Does he have _feathers_ in his hair?

"Hey kid," Peter says, cut off into an oof when Felix barrels into his knees, hugging him tight. Peter reaches down to place a hand in Felix’s hair and, yep, those are definitely feathers. _What?_

Felix releases him, practically bouncing in excitement, and the worries that have been gnawing at Peter’s stomach all day evaporate in the face of Felix’s smile. “Good day then?” Peter asks, which is evidently a mistake because Felix takes his hand and starts talking, doesn’t stop until they get back home and Peter fixes him a snack, and it’s all about someone called Mr. H.

He doesn’t explain the feathers, but he makes Peter carefully untangle them before he gets in the bath and sets them carefully inside his drawer, like they’re something precious. Peter doesn’t question it. If Felix wants to tell him, he’ll tell him. If Felix doesn’t, well…It’s only a few feathers.

Peter’s more curious in this mysterious Mr. H that Felix seems to be utterly head over heels in hero-worship with. Peter’s never heard the kid speak for so long before, has to make him some warm milk to soothe his throat when he starts rasping, and it’s all about his new teacher.

"Mr. H gave us all some seeds and we get to make flowers grow, Peter."

"Mr. H told us a story before naptime today and Snow White had a sword.”

"Mr. H said he really liked my drawing, Peter, he put it up on the wall."

It begins a pattern. Felix never gets as talkative as he did the first day, but not a day goes by that he doesn’t regale Peter with some tidbit or other about Mr. H. And every day he comes home with a new set of feathers tied into his hair, sometimes purple, sometimes green, but never so often as the simple brown he had the first day.

Peter catches Felix holding onto them, sometimes, like a lifeline, and burns with curiosity, but it’s not until the school’s first Parent Night that he finally gets to find out.

He drops Felix off at Wendy’s house a good hour before he’s set to arrive at the school, because he’s dressed in a button-down and tie and he knows Wendy will need at least an hour to get all of her mocking out.

"Oh my god," She says, gleeful, when she opens the door to him and Felix. "You look like you belong on the PTA."

Peter rolls his eyes. “Trying to look responsible here.”

"If you wanted to look responsible you should have worn looser jeans," She quips before smiling down at Felix, who’s blushing already. Felix has a soft spot for Wendy. "Hey, Fee. You got a film for us to watch?"

Felix nods, holding up a copy of Snow White. Wendy arches an eyebrow at Peter.

"Blame Mr. H." Peter shrugs. "Apparently the guy’s a fairytale fanatic."

"Oooh, Mr. H." Wendy grins. "Are we finally getting to meet the fantastic Mr. H?"

"Finally," Peter agrees before he reaches down and swings Felix up into his arms, settling him on his hip. Felix is just getting too big to be held like this now, but it makes both of them feel better whenever Peter has to go out for the night. He brushes Felix’s hair back. "I’ll be back after the movie’s over, okay? And if Wendy’s not in tears begging for you to leave by the time I get back I will consider the whole night a failure, you might as well not come home." Peter grins and Felix nods solemnly. "Atta boy."

"Charming," Wendy huffs from behind them, but she’s smiling. "Come on, Felix. I’ve got pasta."

Felix wriggles his way out of Peter’s grip and heads off to the kitchen, leaving Peter and Wendy in the doorway. “Thanks for doing this,” Peter says, but Wendy scoffs.

"Don’t be ridiculous, I love having him. You know that." She knocks into him, pointedly. "And if you ever wanted to, you know, go out on a date like a normal twenty-three year old, I’d be more than happy to have him."

Peter laughs. “When am I going to get a date?” Peter hasn’t dated since Killian, and _that_ had been a disaster.

Wendy rolls her eyes. “Pull the leg of someone who didn’t know you in high school, Peter. You could walk into any club and come out with five numbers.”

"Six," Peter grins instinctively, but sighs. "It’s not that simple anymore, Wendy."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Wendy surrenders, hands up. "It’s just…" She trails off, and Peter doesn’t want to know what she’s planning on finishing the sentence with.

He presses a kiss to her cheek, says, “Don’t let him fall asleep before seven or he’ll be up half the night,” and bolts.

(He doesn’t want to admit that the ending of that sentence might be _You’re lonely_.)

 

 

 

***

 

He arrives a good half hour before his meeting with Mr. H and hangs around the foyer with sweaty palms and his heart jackrabbiting somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.

He starts pacing.

He’s had Felix for three years now and so far he’s thought that he’s been doing a pretty okay job with the kid which is obviously stupid because of course Peter’s ruined him, Ruby made an awful decision leaving Peter as guardian, who on earth would ever leave Peter in charge of a child, especially one as important as Felix, and oh god what if his jeans _are_ too tight, no one’s going to take him seriously and

"Let me guess." He blinks and there’s a pair of brown eyes swimming before him, a face forming around them to form a cohesive person smiling up at him in a striped sweater vest. "Felix’s dad, right?"

"Guardian," He manages, and is impressed with himself when his voice sounds vaguely sane. "Peter." He holds out a hand, and if his hand is sweaty, this guy doesn’t mention it.

Now he’s coming out of what was very nearly a panic attack, Peter can take in the stranger standing before him. The guy looks even younger than him, dark hair and a warm smile that does something soothing to Peter’s roiling stomach, and Peter can’t place him as any of the other parents he’s seen on the playground until, “I’m Henry Mills, Felix’s teacher.”

Oh.

Mr. H.

 _This_ is Mr. H?

Whatever Peter had been expecting it wasn’t the creamy-skinned and bambi-eyed guy standing before him with bitten down nails, red lips and the slightest curl to his hair that Peter instinctively wants to bury his hands in, hideous sweater vest be damned.

"Do you want to come in?" Henry’s asking and everything that’d been panicking Peter about tonight comes rushing back. He nods shakily and follows Henry into the kindergarten classroom.

It’s a shocksplash of colour and Peter can immediately see why Felix loves it. Felix is drawn to vibrance, likes sitting quietly behind Peter as he paints, requested a bright forest full of wildlife and fairies and magic to be smeared across his bedroom walls, and Peter smiles, soothing slightly.

He can’t give Felix much, but he’s always been able to give him that.

The room is cluttered in that typical kindergarten way Peter can hazily remember from his own times, the grit of sand constantly underfoot, bitten off crayons shoved into every pocket, clear bottles full of glittery liquid lined on the windows, artwork all across the walls.

Peter finds some of Felix’s instantly, pinned up on the _This Is My Family_ exhibit. There’s a small potato-shaped figure with a shock of blonde hair labelled Me holding stick hands with a taller, leaner potato-shaped figure with Peter written neatly underneath. It’s the smallest family on there.

"His impressionist work is better," He says, throws a smirk over his shoulder, and Henry catches it, smiles back.

There’s no desk, so they sit opposite each other, cross-legged, on the carpet. There’re pieces of play-doh ground into the floor, glitter and paint, and Peter loves it, messy and wild, wants to add to it himself.

"Well, where can I start with Felix?" Henry says, and Peter stiffens, hears a thousand things in his head.

_What have you done to him?_

_He barely talks!_

_Who on earth let_ you _near a child?_

But they don’t come. “Honestly? Felix is one of my favourite students. He’s so eager to learn and so well-behaved. It’s a pleasure to have him in my class, I love talking to him.”

Peter’s breath feels punched out of him. Relief so great it hurts sinks down on his shoulders and he feels like crying. Felix is okay. Felix is doing _good_ by the sounds of it. Peter hasn’t ruined him.

He laughs and it’s watery.

It feels like he’s been drowning at sea and someone’s finally throwing him the life-ring.

"Peter?" Henry asks, tentatively, and Peter opens his eyes, didn’t realise he’d closed them and…he’s just completely come apart in front of an absolute stranger.

Ah.

"Sorry," He says, collecting himself. "I didn’t mean to…"

"It’s okay." Henry smiles gently at him. "It’s nice to see someone caring so much. Doesn’t happen as often as you’d hope."

And Peter can see exactly why Felix is so enamoured with Mr. H in that second.

"At least now I know why Felix never shuts up about you," He says, pulling himself together, delighting in the sudden flush of colour that hits the tips of Henry’s cheeks.

A smile, small and honest, plays on Henry’s lips even as he blushes. “I find that hard to believe. Felix rarely says anything that isn’t important.”

"So believe me when I say he talks about you constantly," Peter says, rather than let himself be bowled over with how much Henry _gets_ Felix. The playgroup teacher never had, nor the the second one Peter had had to find after Felix had bitten the first.

Henry pinkens deeper. “He’s a very special boy.” He meets Peter’s eye again. “He talks about you, you know?" Peter opens his mouth but Henry keeps going. “Misses you. Hence, the feathers.”

Peter blinks. “The feathers are to do with me?”

“Felix didn’t tell you?” Peter shakes his head and Henry lights up, hands dancing as he speaks. “The way you comfort him, his hair. It calms him. The feathers are a replacement.”

“I…” Felix always soothes when Peter brushes his hands through his hair, but-

“He _adores_ you.”

Peter could make a quip, _I do feed him_ , or _kid has good taste_ , or _who wouldn’t adore me?_ but it feels wrong. “I do what I can for him. It’s not as much as I want it to be.”

“In my experience,” Henry says, quiet, not looking at Peter. He looks more lost in thought than anything else. “It’s the parents that want to do more, rather than the ones that do, that kids need.” Then he blinks, coming back to himself. “I’m sorry, that was out of line, I just-”

“No,” Peter says, croaks really. “It’s fine.” There’s a pause and he coughs, clears his throat.

Henry smiles and- no, _Mr. H_ smiles, Peter is not doing this, he is _not_.

But here he is, smiling back.

Damn.

 

 

 

***

 

The phone call comes in and Peter answers it distractedly, caught up in the finishing touches of his latest commission, and the words don't register in his head until he hears "Felix" and "school" and "trouble" and absolutely every neuron in his brain whites out in pure panic.

He's bursting through the school doors in ten minutes flat, having broken about seventeen driving laws on his way over, and is about to start screaming for Felix when he sees Henry at the end of the corridor, talking hurriedly with a woman with blonde hair scraped back into a messy bun. A detached part of Peter's brain notes that Henry looks _angry_.

As soon as Henry catches sight of him he cuts his conversation short, stalking away towards Peter. His expression clears into something soothing when he takes in Peter's everything, shirt buttoned lopsided and hair a wreck from where he pulled at it on the drive over, and says, "He's alright. Nothing's wrong. He's fine."

"Where is he?" Peter asks, barrelling past, and he has no idea where he's going but he's going to search the entire fucking school until he finds his son goddamnit.

"The principal's office," Henry says, matching stride with him, and Peter's not imagining the tight note to Henry's voice. "There was a fight."

" _A fight?!_ "

"Peter, slow down," Henry pulls on his arm and for some reason Peter lets himself be pulled to a stop. "You can't go in and see him like this. It'll only upset him, you know it will."

Peter starts to argue, then stops. Henry's right. Felix is the most perceptive kid Peter's ever met. He's not going to take Peter's mania very well. Peter forces himself to take a deep breath and pushes it out slowly.

"Explain," He says, hands moving to the buttons on his shirt, and Henry obliges.

Apparently, Felix made a friend a few days ago. A girl named Rufio. Peter stores the information away for when Felix brings it up, if he does after this. And at recess today a few of the other kids took exception to the rattiness of Rufio's clothes, her funny name, something small like kids do, and Felix...came to her defence.

Now there's an angry parent with a kid with bitemarks in his shoulder and Felix is sitting alone and scared outside the principal's office.

"Take me to him," Peter demands when Henry's finished and Henry nods.

Peter forgets just how little Felix is, his little grandpa in a kids body, and he aches when he sees Felix sitting on a hard plastic chair, legs not quite touching the ground and eyes wide as he looks around himself. His hand is curled tight around his feathers.

He looks up when Peter calls his name, doesn't reach out for him until Peter crouches down in front of the chair and then he buries his face in Peter's neck, breathing quick and panting against him. Peter runs his hand up and down his back, mutters nonsense into his hair, rocks him slowly.

He's not just angry anymore. Peter's _livid_.

Felix is talking into Peter's neck and it takes Peter a while to make out the quiet ' _Sorry_ ' that's being smudged into him again and again.

"No," he says, pulling back to look Felix in the eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Felix. Mr. H told me what happened," At the mention of Henry, Felix's eyes widen and he looks to Henry cautiously, as if expecting to be told off by his hero. Peter doesn't look away from Felix to see what Henry looks like, but it must comfort Felix, just a little. "And I couldn't be more proud of you, kid. You were standing up to bullies. That's bravery, kiddo."

Felix hiccups and rubs at his eyes. Peter pats himself down looking for a tissue, nods tightly to Henry when he offers one. "C'mere kid," Peter says, voice soft, and he wipes away Felix's tears. He can't do anything about the blotchiness of his cheeks.

Someone is going to have hell to pay for putting Felix through this.

"You gonna wait here for me while I sort this out?" He asks and Felix nods, releases him. "You got a book to read?" Another nod. "Alright, I won't be long."

He presses a kiss to Felix's forehead, strokes through his hair, and stands. There's something he can't quite decipher in a Henry's eyes that makes his stomach twist, but he ignores it in favour of rapping sharply on the Principal's door and marching in without waiting.

He's seen Principal Mills before, all sharp suits and red lipstick, but right now he hates her.

"Miss Mills, would you care to explain why my son has been sitting alone in your corridor expecting punishment?" He asks and his voice is low, dangerous. He's had people run before this voice before.

Principal Mills barely flinches.

"Mr Pan, how nice of you to join us," She smiles, dazzling white teeth, standing and moving to shake his hand. He doesn't take it. "To business then?"

"To business," He agrees, teeth clenched. "From what I understand, Felix is not the one in the wrong."

"Felix assaulted another student," Principal Mills corrects, smooth, before shooting a look at Henry who'd followed Peter in. "I see Felix's teacher has been talking to you."

"He told me what happened, yes."

"Then you should understand that Felix bit one of his peers today. The other boy claims it was completely unprovoked."

"And you believe him?!"

Principal Mills sighs at him and it takes everything Peter has in him not to reach out and slap her. "Only one of the two boys is talking, Mr Pan. Your ward hasn't said a word in his defence."

"In his defence? He's five years old, he shouldn't have to speak in his defence!" Peter fumes.

"Regina," Henry starts but Principal Mills cuts him off.

"Yes, Mr Mills, you've said your piece, your opinion on the matter is quite clear. But the fact of the matter of that Felix has attacked another child today. In all honesty I am considering suspension."

"Suspension?" The word sounds punched out of him and his legs almost give out. " _Suspension?_ " He asks again, louder.

"Peter," Henry says before Peter can get anything else out, and his voice is cold. "Do you mind waiting with Felix for a few minutes? I need to speak with Miss Mills."

Peter doesn't know what to do with this Henry, jaw set and eyes like ice, but he nods sharply and leaves, leaves before his legs can actually buckle underneath him.

Suspension. Felix is five years old and he's already getting suspended? Suspension is for boys like Peter, wild and bloody, clawing at the walls. But Felix is gentle and kind and quiet. Felix is nothing like Peter was, doesn’t deserve any of this.

He can’t help but take this as the sign he's been waiting for since Felix was put into his arms after Ruby's accident, the sign that he's fucked Felix up and nobody should ever have let him near the kid in the first place.

Felix curls into his lap as they wait and Peter tries to focus on the slow up and down of his chest as Peter runs his fingers through Felix's hair, and not on the muffled raised voices he can hear through the wall behind him.

Eventually the door clicks open and Henry walks out, shoulders in a tense line but exhaling in relief.

"It's sorted," He says, kneels down in front of the pair of them and looks Felix right in the eye. "You're not in trouble anymore, I promise."

"Sorted?" Peter asks, throat in knots so it comes out croaky.

Henry looks from Felix to Peter, smiles. "He was standing up for a friend. Felix is a good kid, Peter."

"I know that," Peter says and his throat is dry.

He stands rather than get caught up in the way Henry's looking at him, collects Felix up in his arms. The kid's exhausted which means he's basically just dead weight, but Peter doesn't mind. "So," He starts as they start walking. "How much did that cost you?" He nods back to the office.

Henry grimaces. "Family dinner once a week."

"Family dinner?"

"Principal Mills is my mom," Henry explains and Peter nearly trips over his feet. Henry laughs. "Why do you think I get the kids to call me Mr. H?"

"I never made the connection," Peter admits. He still can't, not even now, can equate the sharp lines of Principal Mills to the soft edges of Henry's smiles.

"Most people don't." Henry shrugs. "And I prefer to keep it that way. I love my mom, but I know how she comes across."

Peter can't stop the snort that escapes him. Seems to him that the way Regina Mills comes across is the way Regina Mills _is_.

"Thanks," He says instead as they pull to a stop by the front doors.

Henry smiles. "Anytime." Then he pulls a face. "Well maybe not _anytime_. I'm not sure I could handle more than one family dinner a week."

"Why?" Peter asks, because he can't help himself, and Henry knows exactly what he means, grows serious.

"I love all my kids," Henry says, chews on his bottom lip. "But Felix..." He sighs. "It's very hard not to love Felix more."

Peter's heart is in his throat and he's screwed he's so screwed. He nods, looks down at Felix yawning in his arms to get past the sensation in his throat.

"Don't you dare fall asleep, kid. I've got a bowl of carrots at home with your name on it." Because Peter would get the kid with the weird as fuck sugar aversion.

"Peter," Henry calls him back just as they're about to leave. "You're a great parent. Felix is a lucky kid."

Peter's fucked.

 

 

 

***

Peter thinks that’s it, he can go home, curl up with Felix on the couch and subtly knock himself out with whichever one of Felix’s toys are stuffed behind the cushions because Henry is very definitely Felix’s teacher and therefore very definitely _out of bounds._

Which is of course why they run into Henry on the grocery run Peter makes when he remembers they ran out of raisins for Felix’s snack-time last night.

Felix lights up, the first show of excitement Peter’s seen on the kid’s face since they left the school, and Henry immediately drops down to his knee to smile up at him. “Hey, Felix.”

Felix smiles back.

Peter tries very hard not to smile himself, and fails. He was once the bane of Storybrooke streets, what the fuck happened to lead him to be standing in a grocery store with a basket full of absurdly colourful raisin packets and juice boxes that he very much intends on paying for, trying not to smile at a wide-eyed elementary school teacher in a goddamn sweater vest?

What the fuck happened to him tugs on his hand. “Peter?”

He crouches down immediately. “Yeah, kid?”

“Can Mr. H come for dinner?”

"I wouldn't want to intrude-" Henry's stammering, as surprised as Peter is by the request.

For a five year old, Felix is scarily territorial. The apartment is something like his sanctuary. He doesn't take it very well when new people are around. One part of the reason Peter and Killian really didn't work out. Hard to get anywhere when there's a screaming three year old in the background.

"We do owe you," He's saying before he can stop himself, cutting of Henry's apologetic stutterings.

"What?" Henry's blinking. His cheeks are flushed.

"For what you did for Felix today." He's still talking, he's definitely doing this. He is inviting Henry's teacher to dinner. Is nobody going to stop him?

Felix definitely isn't. The hand he still has in Peter's clutches down in excitement.

Henry looks conflicted so Peter disentangles himself from Felix and covers the kid's ears. Felix pulls a face in annoyance. Peter pulls one right back and turns to Henry.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," He says. "It'd be nice to be able to thank you, though." He leaves out the part where he's astonished Felix is actively inviting people to the apartment. There's such a thing as too much pressure.

"Neither do you," Henry counters and Peter laughs. Yeah, spending an evening with Henry is going to be a real trial.

Well, once he gets past the near crippling urge he has to _touch_.

"It's fine, honestly." Peter says.

"My mom always said never to trust anyone who said honestly."

Peter grins, can't help it. "You probably shouldn't trust me anyway."

Henry tilts his head. "I don't think so." And it’s earnest in the way Peter’s beginning to learn Henry nearly always is.

Felix shuffles, disgruntled under Peter’s hands, and gives him a hard look, brown eyes accusing. “Okay, kid, sorry,” Felix moves out of Peter’s hands and pats his hair down, mouth in a little moue. “I said I was sorry.”

Felix nods and turns hopeful eyes to Henry.

“If it’s okay with Peter,” Henry starts and Felix _beams_.

Peter doesn’t even want to know what they look like, crouched around Felix and smiling in the cereal aisle like idiots, but he doesn’t exactly care.

 

 

 

***

 

It’s strange, having someone over four foot helping with the cooking. Felix usually perches on the counter and tells Peter about his day in between watching Peter intently to make sure he cuts his carrots the right way and doesn’t sneak in anything Felix deems as unhealthy. Peter’s not sure what he did to earn a health freak five year old, but here he is.

Tonight, Felix still isn’t saying much, still holding himself a little stiff, but with every quiet question Henry directs his way from where he’s chopping vegetables side by side with Peter, sleeves rolled up and ears pink in the heat of the room, Felix relaxes a little bit more. Peter’s still marvelling that Felix invited Henry back to the apartment after the ordeal at the school, but he’s not about to look in this particular gift horse’s mouth.

Henry’s just...so _good_ with Felix.

Peter’s beginning to realise the mistake he made in inviting Henry to dinner.

Felix perks up a bit during the meal, Henry still coaxing him out by including him so thoroughly in every conversation piece that he and Peter hit. Peter learns a lot about Henry over the meal. How this is his first year in teaching, how he’s living with his mom until the first year is over, how the mom he’s living with _isn’t_ Regina and there’s a whole host of history in that comment that Peter _burns_ to know but leaves alone. Felix, however, doesn’t.

“You have two moms?” He ask, fixing Henry with a look that’s suddenly very assessing.

Danger signals start going off in Peter’s head, but luckily Henry misunderstands the look.

“Yes, Felix. I do. Lots of people have two mommies. Or two daddies. Or two mommies and a daddy. Do you remember our Every Family Is Different project?” Felix nods. “Do you remember how you have a different family from, say, Rufio?”

“Rufio doesn’t have a family,” Felix frowns, eyes sad, always sensitive to the pains of others.

“Yes, and that’s very sad,” Henry nods solemnly with Felix. “But someone like Rufio would love to have two people to love her, whether they’re two mommies or two daddies, wouldn’t she?”

Felix nods enthusiastically. “Anyone would be lucky to have Rufio,” He says, happily spearing another carrot. “She can run really fast.”

Henry’s face splits into a smile. “She can.”

“Maybe you’d like to invite Rufio over to play, one day, Felix,” Peter suggests and Felix turns his eyes to Peter hopefully.

“Really?”

“Of course, kid,” He says. Felix has never had a friend over, always quiet at playgroup and content with his own company in the sandbox whenever they go to the park. “You can ask her tomorrow, if you like.”

Felix smiles and returns to his peas.

“He’s never been lonely,” Peter says after the meal, when Felix has wandered through to the living room to read on the couch. It’s an open plan apartment so he keeps his voice down. “But he’s been alone. It’s nice, that he’s made a friend.”

“Rufio’s a good kid,” Henry assures him, clearing away plates. “A little wild, perhaps, but so’s Felix. Even if he doesn’t show it as much.”

“C’mon, kiddo,” Peter says when he sees Felix start yawning again, hiding it behind his hands. It's easier than examining the flip in his chest he gets when Henry displays just how much he understands Felix, the way only Peter and Wendy have before. “Bath. Bed.” Felix pouts, which is how Peter knows how exhausted he is. “ _Now_.”

“I’ll wash up,” Henry says.

“Don’t you dare,” Peter warns. “I’ll be back once I’ve run his bath. You stay there.” Henry holds up his hands. “I mean it, don’t move.”

He scoots Felix out of the room, certain that his littleboy pride would object to Peter carrying him out of the room in front of his idol, and runs him a bath. He untangles the feathers from Felix’s hair and hands them back to Felix so he can put them with the rest of his collection.

“So what was all that about, Fee?” He asks, testing the temperature and gesturing for Felix to start stripping. Felix just looks at him. “You know what I mean, kid.”

Felix folds his shirt up, weird as fuck kid, Peter swears, and looks at him. “Do you like Mr. H?”

Peter blinks. “Of course I do. You like him.”

Felix nods. “Yes. But I like him in a different way, don’t I?”

“ _You_ ,” Peter says, hand rising to brush through Felix’s hair. “Are too perceptive for you own good, you know that?” He ruffles his hand and Felix pulls a face. “Get in the bath, kid.”

“Can Mr. H put me to bed?” Felix asks, clambering in.

“I’ll ask,” Peter promises and leaves him to bathe, leaving the door open behind him.

Henry’s at the sink when he gets back, hands deep in soapy water.

“Not a word,” Henry says when Peter opens his mouth to object. “I can’t be invited to dinner and then not help with clean-up, I am physically unable.”

“At least let me help.”

“Get a dish-towel.”

They wash and wipe in silence. Peter’s used to silence. He never was before Felix, always needing to have a line or a quip at the ready, but this is nice.

"Thanks again," He says when they're on the last few plates, voice quiet even in the near silence the kitchen. He doesn't say for what, not really sure himself whether he means for coming to dinner for what Henry did at the school or whether it's just for the way he is with Felix, but Henry smiles back.

"Anytime." Henry looks at him, as if trying to decide something. "Peter, what happened to Felix's mother?" Peter's hands still on the last plate he's drying. "You don't have to tell me," Henry continues, apologetic, but Peter cuts him off.

"No, no, it's...fine." He sets the plate down, grips the counter. "I'm surprised you don't know already, really. At least the basics of it."

"Peter, honestly, you don't have to tell me. I don't know what came over me I just-"

"Ruby was one of my best friends," Peter says and it's like a dam opening up behind his ribcage. "We had what you'd call a misspent youth. I'd still be having one if it weren't for Felix." He pauses but Henry doesn't speak. "Ruby was..."

Ruby was beautiful, wild and free, running through the town, and the only thing redder than her high heels was the lipstick she grinned through. Peter had met Ruby like he met all of his Lost Boys, drawn to those with a fire like his burning in their bellies, too much for this town and howling to get out.

"She ran wild, Ruby did. But Felix settled her." Felix is good at that, at being loved by wild things, at steadying them.

"I missed the phonecall. Can't even remember what I was doing that was so fucking important, but I missed it and she died in the hospital, alone. All because some idiot didn't watch where he was driving."

He takes a steadying breath. Henry brushes against him and he lifts his head. “I wasn't exactly a good guy before Felix. Too much time spent on the wrong side of the law. I have an arrest sheet as long as my leg, I have no idea how it was cleared that I would get Felix. But it was what Ruby wanted, so I tried to rise to the challenge.”

He laughs, and it’s not bitter, it could never be bitter. Self-deprecating, maybe. “You have no idea how terrifying it is. One day you’re twenty years old and suddenly you’ve got this whole other human life to protect. So I packed in. Went legit and focused on my paintings. Used my connections to get a few sold quick which garnered interest and now it's my job.”

Now he has a son. Now he has a life he never could have imagined if he’d tried for a thousand years. Now he has Felix and it still bowls him over whenever he lets himself think about it. Now he’s a father.

“What about his dad?” Henry asks, and Peter could kiss him for it not being an _I’m sorry._

“Never knew about Felix to begin with. Ruby didn’t want him to know, so he doesn’t. If Felix ever wants to know I’ll tell him, but, no, he’s not in the picture.” They’re better off without him in the picture, in Peter’s opinion, and Henry must see that in his face because he doesn’t ask further.

“I know I say it a lot,” Henry says after a minute of quiet, only Felix’s quiet humming trailing through the air. “But I don’t think you hear it enough. You’re really good for Felix, you know that? You’re a great dad.” And he looks at Peter like Peter’s got a universe inside him.

Henry’s close enough to kiss and that would be easier than trying to speak around the lump in his throat, but Felix calls out Peter’s name at just the last second. Peter blinks back the wetness in his eyes. Fucking hell.

“Coming, kid,” He calls back, proud of the way his voice doesn’t waver, eyes still on Henry. Then he remembers. “Oh, yeah, I was meant to ask. You don’t have to, but would you mind putting Felix to bed? I’ll get him in his pajamas and everything, just-”

“Of course,” Henry says, and it’s like he’s coming out of something, too. His cheeks are pink and he blinks slowly.

“Great,” Peter says and it’s too loud. “Thanks,” and it sounds more genuine.

Felix sways as Peter dresses him, wiped out by the much too exciting day he’s had, and doesn’t protest when Peter picks him up, just curls into Peter’s neck and hums quietly. His eyes snap open when they enter the bedroom, looking around hopefully, and when they settle on Henry, Peter can feel his tired smile.

He passes Felix off to Henry, who handles him like someone who spends all of their time around kids, with ease. Felix’s arms tighten around Henry’s neck and Peter can see the softness in Henry’s face as he settles Felix on the bed, tucks the covers up around his chin.

Felix is out like a light as soon as Henry brushes his hair back, and something pangs deep in Peter’s chest at the picture the two of them make in the dim light of Felix’s nightlight.

He doesn’t just _want_ Henry. He wants to be _with_ Henry.

And that’s so much worse.

“This is really bad of me,” Henry whispers as they leave the room. “I shouldn’t be playing favourites like this.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Peter promises, and Henry laughs.

“Deal.”

“He keeps all your feathers, you know,” Peter says as Henry pulls on his coat, because it feels like something Henry should know. Henry freezes with one arm in the sleeve. “All of them, since the beginning.”

Henry’s speechless, blinking madly and mouth open like there’s something he has to say but he can’t. In the end he doesn’t, just throws himself at Peter in a fierce hug that takes the breath from Peter’s body. Then he’s gone, out the front door, coat still hanging half-on, half-off.

Peter watches him to his car.

 

 

 

***

  
Christmas comes and Peter and Felix spend the day in their pajamas, crosslegged on the floor and Peter watching Felix unwrap gifts, checking to make sure he won’t have to confiscate Wendy’s. Again.

Felix unwraps every gift carefully, little thumbs lifting tape and making sure not to tear the shiny paper, and yes, Peter knows he has a weird kid, alright, but Felix is happy so Peter is happy to be the one to pile up all the paper Felix accumulates.

Felix unwraps the two wooden swords Peter got him and beams in delight, tackling Peter around the middle until they fall over. Peter blames the Disney movies and fairytales Felix has been absorbing of late, but if Felix wants to be a hero or a knight then Peter’s going to buy him kid swords and teach him how to swing.

“C’mon, kid,” Peter reminds him after Felix spends ten minutes just running his fingers over the swords. At least it was a hit. “Still got presents to open.”

Wendy buys him a wolf plushie and Felix tucks it under his arm for the rest of the enterprise, excitedly showing all of his gifts to no-name the wolf, and Peter has to hand it to Wendy, the kid loves it.

Then Felix pulls out a large rectangular gift that Peter doesn’t recognise, and his arms struggle with the weight of it. Peter lifts it into his lap, checking the tag as he does so.

_To Felix,_

_Happy Christmas_

_From Mr. H_

“Felix?” He asks carefully, blinking at the tag. “Did Mr. H get everyone in the class a gift?”

Felix nods, hands already searching for the tape on the gifts. “On present-giving day.”

Peter remembers that day. There’d been an email sent out to all the parents saying that the kids had all decided to buy another student in the class a present and that could the parents please help with this, thank you so much :)

There had been a smiley. Peter had dropped his head into his hands.

Felix had chosen Rufio and spent hours in the toy-store looking for something she’d like. Peter had spent the hours baffled all the different shades of pink they could find in the girls department before suggesting that Felix look in the boys section out of lack of options. Peter had brought it up to Wendy who’d just nodded wearily.

Felix had given Rufio a lego pirate ship and come home with what had transpired to be a small gold bracelet. Something in Peter had panged. He’d grown up in the orphanage, same as Rufio, knew what the nuns were like especially when it came to Christmas, and knew exactly where this bracelet had come from.

He’d clasped it around Felix’s wrist firmly.

Peter doesn’t remember this present coming into the house.

“Oh, Felix,” Peter says when Felix finally unwraps the gift and just stares at it, speechless. It’s a book and it’s _huge_. Leather-bound and embossed in gold lettering. It’s very definitely more than a normal gift to a student, and Peter doesn’t know what to do with that.

“ _Fairytales_ ,” Felix whispers, reverent, hands hovering an inch or two above the cover, as if worried about touching it. Peter doesn’t blame him. The book looks old, well cared for and loved. The book looks like it’s something special.

When Felix finally manages to psyche himself up to lay his hands on his new and favourite gift, he’s gone, curling up on the couch with the book splayed across his lap and his wolf toy still under his arm.

Peter snaps a picture and sends it to the number he’s had stored in his phone since the field-trip Felix took to the zoo last month. He doesn’t say _It’s too much,_ doesn’t say _You didn’t have to do this_ , just sends the picture of Felix, bed-ruffled hair and yawning mouth, pouring over the book of fairytales so close that his nose is nearly touching the pages.

His phone buzzes. _Glad he liked it :)_

Peter doesn’t know what else to say, what else can sum up the storm of _something_ billowing up in his chest, just sends _Thank you_

_Happy Christmas, Peter x_

Peter wants to send a thousand responses but in the end just writer _Happy Christmas, Henry x_ and sends another picture an hour later of Felix fallen back asleep over his new book.

It’s the beginning of the end.

They don’t text every day after that, but it’s close. Most of the time it’s about Felix, but there are also texts Henry sends that are just for Peter, bitching about the family dinners he still has to go to, snarky little commentaries and Henry’s _funny_ , Peter finds himself laughing out loud at some his comments. Sometimes Henry sends a picture of something he thinks will make Peter smiles, and they always do, without fail, though probably not for the reason Henry expects.

Peter starts texting Henry on instinct, whenever something occurs to him and he has to tell someone, whenever a client’s being particularly fussy. He ends up calling Henry up one day and ranting for fifteen minutes about a client who cancelled their commission just as Peter was putting the finishing touches on it. He considers offering it Henry for a full minute but loses his nerve at the last second.

A lot of it is Felix, though. Henry giving Peter updates on how Felix is doing in class, the games he and Rufio play across the wooden castle, always trying to rope Henry into them, and how Henry really wishes he could but he’s got a whole class to watch over.

Peter sends pictures; Felix deciding he wants to make grass angels and lying spread-eagled in the park; Felix in one of his sword-fighting ‘lessons’; And one day he manages to talk himself into sending one of him and Felix, camera turned around to fit them both it, mouths open and grinning as Felix clings to Peter’s back.

He doesn’t get a response to that one.

 

 

 

***

Felix turns six on a cold February Saturday and Peter creeps into his room with the sun to wake him up, grinning.

“C’mon, kid, you only turn six once,” Peter says when Felix protests, but allows himself to be snuggled into so Felix can have another hour’s sleep.

“Happy birthday,” He says when Felix finally wakes up of his own accord, and Felix smiles at him, hugging him tight. “Presents?” He asks and Felix shakes his head.

“Pancakes.”

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” Peter rolls out of Felix’s tiny bed. “Get dressed kid, we’ll meet in the kitchen in five and head to Granny’s.”

Felix snaps to attention and Peter salutes, marching out of the room with Felix’s giggles trailing behind him.

It’s a good day.

Granny’s is busy when they arrive but they find a booth quickly, lounging out across the seats to dissuade anyone from taking it from them. Granny herself isn’t here yet, which Peter appreciates. She might be Felix’s only blood family, but the woman scares him more than he’ll ever admit.

“So, pancakes?” Felix nods. “Strawberries?” Another nod. “Chocolate and Syrup?” A hesitation, then another nod. Felix’s sugar aversion doesn’t quite stretch to pancakes. “The works, then. Excellent. I’ll go order. Kid, look at terrifying as possible, scare off anyone after our table, okay?” Felix grins, bares his teeth and growls. It’s fucking adorable. “Good boy.”

Peter orders with some new blonde girl they’ve never met before. It’s not exactly uncommon. Granny’s had a hard time keeping anyone around since Ruby. He doesn’t get a chance to feel truly sad, doesn’t want to, not on Felix’s birthday, because he hears Felix’s voice shout “ _Mr. H!_ ” and spins before he can stop himself.

And there’s Henry, face flushed from the cold air outside, pulling off a hat which makes his hair stand up ridiculously at the back and, oh god. Why’s Henry with the _Sheriff?_

“Felix,” Henry smiles and immediately heads over to Felix and Peter’s table. Peter tries to make himself as invisible as possible to the Sheriff, but Henry’s gaze finds him in seconds. “Peter. What are you guys doing here? I thought Felix had a ban on all things sugary and sweet?”

Felix beams, beyond pleased that his beloved Mr. H remembers that about him. Kid wears his heart on his goddamned sleeve.

“It’s my birthday,” Felix is saying when Peter gets back to the table.

“Sugar doesn’t count on birthdays,” Peter agrees, sliding in, smiling back at Henry.

“Oh, I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Henry says, looking apologetic. “Happy Birthday, Felix.”

Felix’s legs kick happily. They catch Peter’s knees under the table and he winces. “We come here every year for Felix’s birthday. Granny likes to see him.” Granny likes to see him, but Granny doesn’t like to see him often. Too much of Ruby in his eyes.

“Granny?” Henry asks, confused, before his eyes widen. Peter can almost see the _That Ruby?_ in his eyes, and he nods so Henry doesn’t have to say it out loud.

Before Peter gets a chance to say anything else, the Sheriff makes her way over. She takes in Peter and Peter feels sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen all over again. “Pan.” She nods.

“Sheriff.”

She takes in Felix and an eyebrow rises up her forehead. “Always wondered what it was that got you off the streets. Now I know.”

“Now you know,” Peter says behind gritted teeth, because old habits die hard. Sheriff Swan has put Peter in handcuffs more times than he can count, but he’s been good the last three years.

“Wait,” Henry says, looking between Peter and the Sheriff the same way Felix is, cautious and confused. “You know my mom?”

His mom.

Of course.

Peter grins and it doesn’t reach his eyes, still watching the Sheriff watch him back. “C’mon, Henry. I told you I wasn’t always a good boy. Sheriff Swan and I are very well acquainted.”

Henry doesn’t have the time to say the “Oh,” his mouth is forming before Sheriff Swan says brusquely, “So you’re the Peter my son’s been talking about, then.”

Peter’s hackles lower and he slides his gaze to Henry who shrugs, smiling. “I might talk about you guys a bit.”

The new girl calls Henry and the Sheriff’s order and Henry disappears to fetch it, leaving Emma to look Peter squarely in the eye. Peter is really wondering what he did to deserve this.

“You’re not what I expected,” The Sheriff says and Peter blinks, confused. “But I’m not surprised. Family is very important to Henry.”

Peter doesn’t have a response to that, is glad when Henry returns with two mugs and hands one off to his mom, taking a big gulp from his. Peter makes a strangled noise when the whipped cream dots itself on Henry’s nose. The Sheriff looks at him sharply and Peter does his best to arrange his face into that of someone who has certainly never had any sexual thoughts of any kind about Henry Mills.

He’s not that sure he does a good job.

The rest of Felix’s birthday goes pretty much off without a hitch as soon as they wave goodbye to Henry and Felix scarfs down all of his pancakes and some of Peter’s. Felix sits dutifully under Granny’s stare for the five minutes she shows up before she has to excuse herself to go and cry in the back room. Peter takes the opportunity to pay and escape.

When they get back to the apartment, Wendy’s let herself in, and Felix blushes bright pink when he sees her, goes red when she presses a “Birthday Kiss” to his cheek and tell him that’s he’s growing so big now.

“Don’t tell him that,” Peter groans when Felix is suitably distracted by the gift Wendy hands him. “He’ll be counting down to his eighteenth birthday when he can turn up on your door with a bunch of roses and ask for your hand.”

Wendy rolls her eyes. “You’re in a good mood. How was the wicked witch of the diner?”

“Fine.” Peter doesn’t say anything about the name. In her less charitable moods, Ruby had called her grandmother the same thing. “No different from last year.”

“It’s only been three years,” Wendy reminds him gently, brushing her back of her hand against his. “Give her time. Now, come on, you actually were in a good mood. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. It’s Felix’s birthday, isn’t that a good enough reason?”

Which is of course when Felix completely betrays him and crows, “We saw Mr. H at the diner!” Luckily the kid’s eyes are still focused on unwrapping his presents to see the look Wendy rounds on Peter, eyebrows climbing her forehead and lips spreading into the biggest shit-eating grin Peter’s ever seen. Peter should know, he taught it her.

“Shut up,” He says, swooping around her to crouch down by Felix. “What did Wendy get you?”

“Coward,” Wendy laughs. Peter ignores her in favour of making noises over the book Felix is flourishing in his face in excitement.

“The teacher, Peter?” Wendy asks later when Felix is happily curled up on the couch with the veritable plethora of books he’s been gifted. At least the kid knows what he likes.

Peter sighs and tops up Wendy’s glass. “It’s a problem. But it’s not like I’m not going to _do_ anything about it.”

“Why not?” Wendy asks and Peter chokes on his drink.

“Why not? He’s Felix’s _teacher_ ,” He hisses, checking to see if Felix heard.

“He’s also the first person you’ve shown even the remotest piece of interest in since that ghastly leather-covered piece of shit who took one look at Felix and ran. At least you know Henry likes Felix.”

“Henry adores Felix,” He says, because it’s true.

“Well, what’s not to love,” Wendy smiles at him. “You’re doing a great job.”

“And I’m pretty sure that screwing his teacher wouldn’t qualify as a great job.”

“Please,” Wendy scoffs. “If you just wanted to screw him, you wouldn’t be this torn up about it. You like him.”

“What are we, twelve?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“Fuck off, Darling.” Peter bares his teeth and Wendy grins back at him, impish, before she settles back into seriousness.

“You’re allowed to want something, Peter. Felix is most important, of course I get that, but you’re pretty important, too,” She reaches out and places her hand on the fist he’s made, gentle, rubbing her thumb across the knuckles.

Peter flips their hands and laces their fingers together. They fight like children, but it’s as easy as breathing being with Wendy.

Felix wants to watch a film, so the three of them sprawl across the couch. “Mulan,” Wendy says approvingly when the credits pop up and Felix wriggles happily between them. “Still on the Disney kick, I see.”

“Rufio likes Mulan,” Felix explains seriously. Peter nods in agreement. He knows this because the last time Rufio came over to play, she and Felix watched Mulan three times, with breaks between each one to act out their favourite scenes.

Peter is definitely going to need more to drink.

Wendy joins him and together they polish off the bottle of wine Peter’s sure has been in his fridge for about six months. It’s Felix’s birthday, they’re celebrating, it’s allowed.

Then Wendy stumbles putting her shoes on, and Peter lifts her car keys with a serious “No.”

“You’re no fun now you’re a parent,” She accuses, but follows him through to the bedroom, stopping to say goodnight to Felix before tumbling into bed in one of Peter’s shirts.

Peter lingers in Felix’s room. Felix shuffles over and he slides in with him, lifting the covers so they’re both beneath them. The light of Felix’s nightlight filters in enough that he can see Felix’s face in the dimness.

“Good birthday, Fee?” He asks and Felix nods, snuggles in closer, head on Peter’s chest.

“Thank you,” He mumbles into Peter’s shirt, small hands clutching at the material, and Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever stop aching at how much he loves this kid.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“You should be happy, too,” Felix says, brown eyes serious as he looks up at Peter.

Peter frowns. “I am happy, kid.”

“Mr. H would make you happier.” And with that Felix falls asleep, leaving Peter to wonder at how the fuck he got such a smart kid, once he works past the whiteout in his brain.

He leaves Felix to his sleep and trudges through the apartment, turning off lights and tidying up, before finally collapsing onto the bed next to Wendy.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.

 

 

 

***

 

The doorbell goes while Peter’s in the shower.

“Wendy!” He yells, scrubbing at the shampoo hurriedly, hears her shout back but can’t decipher the words from under the water. He finishes quickly, towels off and jumps into a pair of jeans he’s still doing up when he breaks the threshold of the kitchen.

He stands there, motionless and dripping, when he sees Henry.

“I-”

Nothing. No words come to Peter’s mind. Every piece of the english language has been erased from his mind. Wendy looks far too amused for this to be fair. What did he do to deserve this?

“I brought Felix a birthday present,” Henry says weakly, cheeks flushed. He looks sick and Peter doesn’t understand why.

“I…” Peter pulls himself together. “ _Felix!_ ”

Felix potters through on tired feet, hair a bedraggled mess and in birdie pajamas, immediately brightening when he sees Henry. “Mr. H!”

“Hey, Felix,” Henry says, kneels down so Felix can skid to a halt in front of him. “I felt bad not getting you a birthday present, so I came to bring you one.”

Henry’s voice is wrong.

Felix picks up on it. “Are you okay, Mr. H?” He asks, concerned, and Henry blinks rapidly.

“I’m fine, Felix, I just- I have to go,” Henry stumbles up. He looks dazed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with a muffled, “Bye,” he’s gone.

Felix looks as confused as Peter feels. _What?_

“What?” He says out loud, because did that actually just happen? It feels like a very quick and very disorienting hallucination.

Wendy places a hand on his arm. “I think Mr. H likes you, too, Peter,” She says, soft, and that’s when Peter takes her in. She’s all sleep-rumpled, long legs disappearing into the hem of Peter’s shirt high on her thighs.

“What? He didn’t- He doesn’t- _What?_ ”

“Peter!” Wendy clicks her fingers in front of his face. “I know it’s early and I know that being subjected to the fantastic Mr. H so suddenly has kind of thrown you one, but I need you to listen here. Make your choice and make it now. Because I think we just broke Mr. H’s heart.”

Peter’s brain finally catches up.

He drops to his knees in front of Felix. “Felix?”

Felix gives him a look that says, without words, that he will never forgive Peter if he doesn’t leave right now.

“Right.”

He has enough sense to throw on a hoodie and push his feet into some shoes before racing out, taking the stairs two at a time. He hits the outside and shivers, cold air hitting the wetness of his hair and turning it to ice. Henry’s retreating back is halfway down the street.

“Henry!” Peter calls when he’s close enough. He sees Henry startle but he doesn’t turn around. “ _Henry!_ ”

Henry stops, the tense lines of his shoulders radiating go away. Peter comes to a halt a few feet behind him. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” Henry says, voice thick, still not turning around, and Peter curses everything this day has been.

“You weren’t intruding. There was nothing to intrude on.”

“Then I’m sorry for not intruding, I-”

“Wendy is like my sister,” Peter cuts him off. “I’ve known her since we were kids.”

There’s silence and Peter really hopes he hasn’t misread this.

“Henry, will you look at me?” He asks, because he’s standing out in the cold, wetness soaking through his hoodie, shivering, and he’s pretty sure he’s just about to declare himself for his kid’s teacher. He’d prefer to do it face to face.

Henry turns. His face is pale, his eyes are bright, and Peter hates how fucking scared he looks. No one should look like that, not over him of all people. But Henry does, and Peter wants to reach out, wipe it away.

“You didn’t have to get him anything,” He says instead, and Henry laughs wetly. It’s not a happy sound.

“Of course I did.”

“No, I meant- Just seeing you made his birthday. Felix doesn’t like many people in this world. Sometimes I think that’s my fault and sometimes I think it’s just the way he is, but either way that is how he is. I wouldn’t change it for the world, wouldn’t change him.”

Henry just looks confused now, which is definitely a step up.

“Felix is always going to come first for me.” He says, and Henry opens his mouth to say something but Peter has to get this out and get this out now. “He is the most important thing in my life. But he doesn’t have to be the only important thing.”

Henry makes a noise in the back of his throat and Peter really needs to be kissing him right now. But he can’t, not yet, has make Henry _know_.

“I have to be careful. I’ve learnt that lesson, painfully. And you’re Felix’s teacher, which should make this weird, should probably make me more careful than I’m already being, but…” Peter gestures uselessly. “Henry, I’m standing here in the cold, I’m freezing, I’m honestly surprised I’m speaking at all what with how fast my heart is racing, and I’m doing it because I think I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, and I’d really like it if you came back home with me.”

Henry looks at him like he’s something amazing, like he’s stargazing and Peter’s a whole fucking constellation. His mouth is open, just slightly, lips shined red, and it is taking all of Peter’s restraint to hold himself back, to not cup Henry’s cheek and kiss him, sweet.

“Okay,” Henry says, simple, and the breath tumbles out of Peter in an exhale of relief.

Henry’s hand laces with his, and Peter feels like a world is trying to push out of his chest. He grips back, tight, sees the tips of Henry’s ears flush.

“Oh god,” Henry says when they get back to the door to Peter’s apartment block, letting go of Peter’s hand as his own fly to his mouth. “This is really embarrassing, isn’t it? I just _assumed_ and, god, I _ran away_. I was ridiculous, I-”

“Come on,” Peter says, taking Henry’s hand again. “It’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Henry snarks, but lets himself be brought upstairs.

Felix is sitting at the counter, munching on toast, legs kicking happily as Wendy pours him some juice. She’s put on jeans in the interim, and all Peter hears is “-your stupid father,” before she’s straightening up and looking at Peter and Henry assessingly. Peter narrows his eyes at her.

“Oh thank god,” She says before rolling her eyes.

Peter ignores her. “Treason? In my own house?” He directs a look at Felix who does his best to look innocent, keeps grinning instead.

“Shut up, love,” Wendy instructs him. “No amount of your witticisms can make up for the fact that you just acted out a trashy romance scene. I have that knowledge now.”

“This is why no one lets you have even a modicum of power,” Peter informs her. He doesn’t let go of Henry’s hand, and Wendy’s eyes see, light up, but she doesn’t say anything. Peter loves her dearly in that moment.

“I’m Wendy,” She says instead, marching forward, hand outstretched. “So far, I approve of you. This is very good for you. Do anything to earn my disapproval and I can promise that all of Maine will not be big enough for you to hide in.” She takes Henry’s hand and shakes it, smiling sweetly. “These boys are too important.”

“I know,” Henry says, and the edges of Wendy’s smile soften.

“Good.” She releases Henry’s hand and presses a kiss to Peter’s cheek. “Happy for you, love.” She waltzes back across the room to hug Felix, then she’s gone, door shutting behind her.

“So that’s Wendy,” Peter says in the silence she leaves behind her, matches Henry’s grin because he’s ridiculously happy right now.

Felix is looking at them over his toast, consideringly, and Peter disentangles from Henry to go to him, Henry just behind him.

“Felix?” He sweeps his hand through Felix’s hair, holds it there as Felix looks up at him.

“Do I still call him Mr. H?” Felix asks, serious, and Peter’s face breaks out in a grin.

 

 

 

***

It’s hard, sending Henry home that evening. They spend the day together, all three of them, and it’s fantastic, it’s perfect, it’s

frustrating that Peter can’t reach out and touch, can’t slide his hands under Henry’s jumper, muss up his mouth, tangle his fingers in his hair. Peter has to catch himself too many times throughout the day, when Henry laughs, when he bends his head to hear Felix speak, when he gets a smudge of pasta sauce on his cheek while they cook, side by side once again. Only where before Peter was careful about nudging Henry, now he can press his arm against him, a hand to his hip when reaching past him, and Henry leans into it every time.

_Fuck._

He doesn’t even kiss Henry when he leaves, knows that if he does, he won’t be able to stop. He thinks Henry gets it, though, because he departs with just a nudge of his forehead to Peter’s, smiling softly.

Peter’s in Felix’s room, reading Henry’s gift to him, a copy of The Hobbit with big enough font that Felix can feel like he’s reading along, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Felix has been out for the last three paragraphs, Peter unwilling to stop talking in case the absence of his voice jarred Felix awake.

Henry flashes up on the screen and he answers.

“ _I think I did this wrong_ ,” Henry’s saying before Peter can even say hello, and Peter stops breathing. “ _No, not like that! I am very much_ in _. All in, I promise_.” Peter still can’t breath, but it’s for a different reason now. “ _But that’s my point. All I told you was ‘Okay’_.”

“I didn’t need anything else,” Peter assures him, smiling to himself because there’s no one here to see how smitten he looks. He checks to make sure Felix is really asleep.

“ _You deserve it,_ ” Henry says, firmly, in that earnest way he has of making Peter feel like he’s the whole world. “ _You have no idea, do you? You astound me. I honestly don’t know what to do with you._ ”

“You and the rest of the world.”

“ _Don’t do that, you always do that. Sell yourself short when you’re one of the most amazing people I know._ ” A short breath that could be a laugh comes down the line. “ _I have no idea why you’d want me, but I’m glad. So, yeah. This is my confession in the cold, even though I’m actually in bed. Sorry about that._ ”

“In bed?” Peter purrs rather than acknowledge the fluttering feeling in his chest.

“ _Don’t even start,_ ” Henry laughs. “ _I know for a fact you’re with Felix right now_.”

“Go on a date with me,” Peter says, hears Henry’s laughter cut off. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Henry gets it, Henry has always got it. Peter’s just impressed he managed to ask for a date not Henry’s hand in marriage.

“ _Tomorrow sounds good_.” Henry’s voice is gentle, soft like Peter’s spent the last three years learning how to be, only with Henry it’s just instinct.

“I’ll drop Felix off at Wendy’s at seven.”

“ _I can be at yours for eight._ ” Peter’s sure he can hear Henry’s smile. “ _Goodnight, Peter_.”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

When Henry’s gone, Peter curls himself up around Felix and falls asleep, hand brushing gently through Felix’s hair.

 

 

 

***

 

Peter drops Felix off at Wendy’s without fuss, Wendy’s “Be safe!” following him out the door as he leaves. He has time to shower and change into the jeans he knows his ass looks good in before he’s pulling the door open to Henry who looks...edible.

Any of the plans Peter had fly out the window.

“ _Fuck_ ,” He gets out before he’s holding Henry’s face in his hands and kissing him like he’s dying. Henry makes this noise that melts into something that’s close to a whine, needy, and Peter’s pulling him into the room, kicking the door closed behind him.

He gets an arm around Henry’s waist, pulls him in tight, and Henry lets him, opens his mouth to Peter and lets him deepen the kiss, sucks on Peter’s tongue until Peter’s the one moaning.

“I was honestly going to take you to dinner,” Peter breathes when they pull back for air.

“Don’t you dare,” Henry says, hands pushing at Peter’s shirt, which is ridiculous because Henry’s in a coat, if anyone should be losing layers, it should be Henry, but Peter obliges, tosses his shirt behind him and dives back to Henry’s mouth.

Henry’s coat disappears as they pass the table, his shirt somewhere by Felix’s bedroom. Peter loses his belt pressed against the frame of the bathroom door, fingers scrabbling at the snap on Henry’s jeans. Their shoes are kicked off as they stumble, backwards, over the threshold of Peter’s bedroom.

Peter’s calves hit the bedframe and he falls back, Henry climbing onto him, _crawling_ into his lap, and kissing him so thoroughly that he goes dizzy, hot in the small room.

“Five months,” Peter pants in between bruising kisses. “I’ve been wanting to do this for five months. Why the fuck did it take five months?”

And maybe it’s too soon, too fast, but it feels like he’s been waiting centuries for this, and Peter’s dying right now, couldn’t stop himself even if he could talk his brain into thinking that taking it slow would be a good idea.

Henry fucking _mewls_ as Peter scrapes his teeth over the dip of his collarbone, takes Peter’s mouth again, kisses him filthy. Taking it slow probably appeals to Henry just as much as it does to Peter. “ _Please_ tell me you have something,” Henry bites into his ear, rocks their hips together until Peter flips them, pushes Henry into the mattress until he’s arching.

“It’s been a long time, but I still have supplies,” Peter assures him, and he isn’t sure what the noise Henry makes then is about, just swallows it, fingers working Henry’s zip until he can get enough room to slide his hand in and stroke Henry, slow.

Henry’s head falls back and he groans, low and sweet, and Peter presses open mouthed kisses up his neck, finding Henry’s mouth again, and it’s not kissing, it’d be too generous to call it kissing, when they’re just panting into each other’s mouth, and Peter can’t stop smiling.

He releases Henry and works their jeans off, their underwear, because Henry’s definitely in no position to be doing anything but keep reaching for Peter like he’s drowning and Peter’s air, and Peter would feel smug if he weren’t hanging on by one final thread himself. He makes a choked off noise when Henry pulls him in close, lines them up and rolls his hips until Peter’s shuddering, Henry laughing in delight until Peter chases his mouth again, tastes the sound.

Peter has to pull back to reach into his nightstand, presses himself back against the warm lines of Henry’s body as soon as he gets his hands around lube and a condom, licks his way back into Henry’s mouth. Henry’s hands are in his hair, gripping tighter and tighter the higher Peter’s hand climbs his thighs.

Peter takes his time, as much as he can when he’s as tense as a wire and _humming_ with the physical need to reach out and take, fingering Henry open slowly until he’s shouting nonsense, bottom lip bruised red by his own teeth.

Then Henry moves, quick and lust-addled, heel finding the small of Peter’s back and _pulling_. Peter goes, braces himself just in time to not fall on top of Henry, shocked and grinning as Henry bites at his bottom lip. “I swear, if you don’t stop teasing right now-” Whatever threat Henry had been about to make is cut off by a high whine when Peter shifts his fingers, rubbing in lazy circles, and Henry pants, eyes blown wide. “ _Five fucking months_ , Peter,” He moans and Peter gets with the programme.

He tears through the wrapper and rolls the condom on, Henry pushing up on his elbows to watch him with hungry eyes, and it’s heady, being the focus of Henry’s attentions. Peter loses himself to it. The air around them feels like it’s on fire as Peter lines himself up, holds Henry’s hips still, hard enough to bruise, and pushes in, in, _in_.

Henry’s back arches, bow-taut under his hands. “Oh god,” Henry breathes, soft, and if it were any quieter Peter would have missed it, wouldn’t have felt the small tumble of breath against his cheek. Peter stills, inside the tight warm heat of Henry. Sweat is pulling Henry’s hair to his forehead, his eyes are bright, cheeks pink, and Peter can’t believe he gets this, can’t believe this is for him.

He moves, and Henry’s gasping, his fingers digging bruises into Peter’s shoulders as one of his legs hook up around Peter and pulls him in deeper. Peter chases an off-angle kiss, pressed to the corner of Henry’s mouth, and it’s perfect.

Peter’s imagined this a thousand times, all the times he couldn’t help himself, reached down between his own legs and thought _Henry_ , but nothing in his mind could ever compare, he was stupid to think so. Henry’s beautiful beneath him, noisy as if he can’t keep what Peter’s doing to him inside.

Henry’s breathing starts coming quick and Peter knows he’s close, slows. Henry whines in the back of his throat, but Peter keeps the pace, achingly gentle in the pull of his hips until he can feel Henry’s muscles bunch up, his throat work wordlessly, his eyes screw tight, and Peter pulls Henry’s orgasm out of him with a final cant of his hips, Henry groaning as he comes across Peter’s belly, untouched.

“ _Fuck, Peter_ ,” Henry manages and that’s it, Peter’s gone, his name of Henry's lips and his own orgasm hitting him like a goddamn freight train, punched out of him until he’s shaking above Henry, collapses on top of him, and Henry’s hands are in his hair, lips at his temple, and Peter thinks he could burst into stars.

 

 

 

***

 

They lie together in the aftermath, facing each other, Henry’s fingers finding Peter’s and playing absently with them as Peter tries to regain his higher brain functions.

“I never thought I’d get this,” Henry says, quiet. “You’re a parent, that’s pretty much meant to be The Line for a teacher.”

Peter laughs, quiet. “Not as good a boy as you seem, are you?”

Henry grins. “Apparently not.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, if you don’t want,” Peter says, and it aches in his chest because he wants nothing more than to parade Henry up and down Main Street saying _mine_ , but he gets it. “You won’t be Felix’s teacher forever.”

Henry kisses him and Peter kisses back, as sweet as he knows how to. “No, I can’t do that,” Henry shakes his head. “I can’t pretend you’re just another parent, or that Felix is just another kid. I want you, both of you, and I’m not going to hide that.” Then Henry’s face splits into a smile. “Not that I’ve been doing a great job of hiding it anyway.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, questioning

“Oh, come on,” Henry says, grinning, tangling their legs together under the sheets. “I would say I tried to keep my distance but that’s being very, very kind. I told myself I should be staying away, then didn’t.”

“I invited you to dinner.”

“I put Felix to bed.”

“I sent you photos.”

“I kept every one,” Henry admits. “Peter, I have a picture of you and Felix as my lock screen. I knew it was creepy and I still did it. My mom saw.”

Peter smiles, so wide it hurts his face. “You gave Felix your storybook.”

“I gave Felix my storybook.”

“You put feathers in his hair.”

Henry’s barely an inch from him. “I put feathers in his hair.”

“ _You love us_.” Peter wants to crow it from the roof as the realisation sinks into his chest, warm.

Henry bats at him, laughing, and Peter catches his hands. “Yes, you ass. I can’t believe it took you so long to figure it out.”

“No, I knew you loved Felix,” Peter corrects him. “It was me I was less sure about.”

“You’re an idiot.” Henry tells him, fond. “I was worried you only liked me for the way I was with Felix. What was worse was knowing I probably would have been okay with just that, I think.”

“You’re an idiot,” Peter echoes, but considers Henry’s words. “It’s part of it, of course it is. I couldn’t love anyone who didn’t love Felix. But it’s not all of it.”

Henry’s good and kind, everything Peter never thought he could be, everything Felix is making him. Henry’s funny and sweet and Peter’s drawn to him like a satellite. They’ve known each other five months and Peter can’t imagine a day without thinking about Henry, without texting him, without seeing Felix do something so absurdly cute that he thinks _Henry’d love this_. Peter’s gone, stupidly so.

Henry hums happily. “So, how long do I have you for?” He asks, blinking sleepily.

“A while yet. You’ve only been here half an hour.”

“Have I?” Henry’s eyes are closed and Peter knows he’s only got about ten seconds left of consciousness left. It’s pitiful how much that makes his heart thump, he really needs to sit down and have a long chat with himself about being so ridiculously head over heels that it’s palpable. “Wake me up when you go and fetch him, yeah?”

“He’d like to see you,” Peter says, and Henry’s open just a crack and he smiles.

Henry finds Peter’s mouth, kisses him chaste. “Then wake me up in time to shower. I’m not seeing Felix smelling like sex.”

“Deal.”

If they’re a little late picking Felix up, hair still damp and Henry’s cheeks blushing, Peter can handle how Wendy’s eyebrow lifts for the way Felix throws himself at the two of them, beaming.

 

 

 

***

 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Henry says as Peter paces, car keys jumping in his hands, and Peter shoots him a withering look. Henry raises an eyebrow. “He’s going to be fine.”

Peter ignores him. “Felix!” The toast pops out of the toaster and he butters it viciously. “ _Felix_!” He calls again through the apartment to no response.

He’s about to go and see what’s the hold-up when arms circle around his waist, Henry pressing his face into his neck. “Peter, breathe.”

Peter drops the butter knife, leans back into Henry.

“It’s first grade, not shipping off to war,” Henry mutters, lips at Peter’s nape. Peter closes his eyes. “He’s going to be fine. He managed pretty well in my class.”

“He didn’t have to wear a tie in your class,” Peter says, but relaxes. Just a little.

“Just promise me something,” Henry says and Peter turns to look at him, inches away. He’s smiling, impish. “Don’t fall in love with his teacher again, yeah?”

Peter pulls a considering face. “I don’t know, Miss Blanchard is pretty hot.”

“She’s fifty two.”

Peter smirks. “An older woman, even better,” He waggles his eyebrows and knows he deserves the thump Henry gives him, catches Henry’s hand and pulls him in. “Promise,” He says and kisses him, perhaps a little too enthusiastically for a Monday morning but, hey, it’s not like Henry’s complaining.

There’s a pointed coughing noise about six feet away and three feet down so they separate to Felix looking at them, arms folded across his new uniform, waiting.

“Well if you will take forever,” Peter argues. Felix rolls his eyes. “Got your coat?” A nod. “Bag?” Another nod. “Toast?” Felix holds out a hand and Peter passes it him. “Ready kid?”

“Ready.”

And they’re out the door, a mess of Felix’s backpack, Henry’s boxes for class which Peter is sure he saw one labelled _More Glitter_ and decided not to ask, and Peter trying to wrap Felix’s scarf around his neck while Felix protests.

Peter will drive the two of them to school, watch Felix run off to play with Rufio before the bell, help Henry carry his boxes into his classroom, all painted fresh for a new year, and see how far he can get before Henry pushes him off, laughing. He’ll spend the day painting or sculpting or whichever of his new commissions take his eye, and be back at three to pick them up.

Peter never expected a life like this, but out of every universe and every choice, he’d choose this one.

Every time.

 


End file.
